


A pile of stones on a hot spot turns to magma

by kapina



Category: The Broken Earth Series - N. K. Jemisin
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 14:06:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kapina/pseuds/kapina
Summary: Yaetr studied orogenes that sacrificed themselves for the survival of others. Alma cut off her funding.





	A pile of stones on a hot spot turns to magma

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellen_fremedon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellen_fremedon/gifts).



_Alma—_  

 _I cannot believe you are being serious. Please do not tell me the influence of the old families of Sanze speaks to your own views. I am not making an emotional plea, I do not speak to you of “our brothers and sisters know pain as we do,” like the rogga lovers at the department of society. I am speaking in the language of logic and rationality. I am making a plea for enlightenment and survival. We are students of stonelore._  

_Tablet 255.x. Lesson 1. Know your past for if you do not master it, it will master you._

_If they do not favor the elevation of orogenes, perhaps they will care about the continued survival of humankind. We would be dead in less than a century without them. We are like Mad King Hebdor, playing parlor games while the people outside his doors suffocated. We’ll die when no one was left to prepare the food._

*

When Breeze brought news to the Comm Moms of an Innovator from Dibars just arrived at the gates, curious chatter soon whirled through the rest of Breeder Hall. Interest swelled further when Zephyr quit a brief, private conference with the Comm Moms and announced she was about to head to the lodge-house. Mistral, all the while heading home from the bath, missed the entire formation of this local maelstrom. But—he happened to cross the threshold of the Hall as Zephyr was tying the sash of her outdoor cloak. 

“Where to, Ma Zephyr?” he asked. It was an unusual sight to see a breeder of her rank leave the Hall midday, while the sun shone brightest.

(The sun is enemy to youth. Avoid his luminous fingers for they’ll press folds and spots into your skin. If you must, sheath your skin in the oil of redberry half an hour before exposure.)

Zephyr tilted her head to regard him. The doorway illuminated her white hair, a soft cloud about her sharp cheeks. “When a dandelion grows in the field,” she intoned archly, “a gust of wind will carry its seed into the garden.”

Not knowing what to make of this, Mistral remained silent. She was referencing, he thought, from the second tablet of Tempest Breeder Mystal. A smart Breeder will diversify bloodlines. This part at least he knew by heart and could recite along with every other Grit.

Zephyr was passing by him in the doorway, mischief in the curve of her lips. “Care to come along?” 

How easily it came to her, thought Mistral, to wield allure. He followed her to no other than the lodge-house. Mistral was gathering an inkling of their object when he spotted it—or, her, rather—in discussion with the lodge-keeper.

“The money will arrive,” the object was saying, “and I'll pay you two times the price—even triple, let me triple what you're asking.”

Mistral looked to Zephyr whose expression didn’t shift.

(A bird that eats the ripest fruit of the tree will prosper. 

But the lodge-keeper was shaking his head. “Not enough money up front, no room.” 

The object exhaled sharply. Zephyr now looked sidelong to Mistral, made an o with her mouth and blew, then stepped forward toward the counter.

“I’m from the Seventh, I said. The Seventh? Most well-known, well-endowed university? Funded by Yumenesce leadership? I can’t—”

“If I may,” cut in Zephyr and took off her hood—in a rather dramatic pause to Mistral’s mind. Both lodge-keeper and object were watching her with frozen expressions. “Breeder Hall would be glad to welcome an esteemed scholar from the Seventh such as yourself. We’ve offered utmost comfort and highest quality hospitality to many valued guests of the Comm in the past.”

The lodge-keeper grumbled, “sounds like a good deal to me,” and pointedly turned away to service other guests.

The object looked from lodge-keeper to Zephyr.

“Zephyr Breeder Aggrya, Third Mother” said Zephyr with a bow of her head. Then pulling a sleeve back delicately to show an upturned palm, she motioned toward her right side. “This an apprentice, Mistral Breeder Aggrya.”

Mistral stepped forward. “A Breeder welcomes strangers with open arms,” he added, for good measure.

“Yes, so the lore dicates, but most would rather toss us travelers to the Resistants, scrub our bodies, and burn our clothes before letting us within an arm’s reach of—and even then—but yes, I mean—thank you.” The object clasped her hands abruptly and nodded vigorously. “I am—very grateful, and I am—my name is Yaetr, Yaetr Innovator Dibars.”

“Well then Scholar Yaetr,” Zephyr offered an arm, “allow us to escort you to our Breeder Hall.”

“Yes, thank you.” Yaetr bent to pull two oversized leather bags on either shoulder and wrapped her arms around them to comical effect. She had nearly tripled in width. Zephyr smoothly tucked her hand back into her cloak and led the way out of the inn.

As they ambled back and Zephyr engaged Yaetr in talk of her recent travels, Mistral examined Yaetr’s back critically. She was rather on the skinny side and the skin on her hands was a bit pale. Frizzy curls tumbled messily over her collar and a hand’s-width of mud caked the bottom of her cloak. But the embroidery along the sleeves of the cloak spoke of large sums of money indeed. Mistral had heard much talk of the influence available to scholars of the Seventh. He supposed he could understand why the Comm Moms would be interested in cultivating a lineage with Yaetr Innovator Dibars.

Five apprentice breeders greeted them on arrival, which was three or four more than necessary. One handled a small water basin, another washed Yaetr’s hands, two more washed each foot, and a fifth ceremoniously presented Yaetr with slippers for her bare feet.

Yaetr smiled in a strained way throughout, and Mistral wondered if she was made uncomfortable by these attentions. When she didn't move or show signs of moving once they were done, everyone hesitated. Mistral bent to take a slipper in hand, curled his other hand around Yaetr’s ankle and slipped the shoe on.

“Oh—” the foot tensed for a moment—“right.” Yaetr looked down at him and he looked up. Then he looked back down and placed the second slipper on the other foot.

Zephyr came up to the back side of the chair and put her hands on Yaetr’s shoulders. “This way,” she said, leaning to one side and tilting her head,“the Comm Moms would like to meet you.”

The whole procession followed her into the main sitting room.

There, Gale and Flatus stood to greet them. 

“Welcome,” said Gale warmly and extended her hands to Yaetr. “I am the First Mother of this Comm. You may call me Gale.”

“And I'm Flatus.” Flatus handed Yaetr a cup of safe. “Second Mother.”

Yaetr clasped her hands around the safe. “Thank you Mothers, I am so grateful for this hospitality. I found myself in a bit of a situation—temporarily so, I'm certain—and your fellow Breeders, well, I would go as far as to say they rescued me. Funny enough this whole thing, but you have all been so helpful in offering me a place to stay.”

“And how long do you intend to make your stay in Aggrya?” asked Flatus.

“Yes, well, it depends on what I can find here and, er, on certain logistical complications, that have arisen… Nothing to worry about but it might take a few extra days.”

“Please, let us sit down,” said Gale and the three Mothers and Yaetr relocated to the couches. The five apprentices and Mistral remained standing around the couches.

“What is it you're looking to find here?” asked Gale.

“Right, so I study stonelore at the university and I'm working on a project that has turned into—well at first I was looking into how comms deal with local instances of extreme weather in order to track variations in seasonal law, but then I started looking at how comms interact with the orogene children born within the comm and somehow I think I’ve come out with a predictive model for seasons that can essentially save the whole of the Stillness when the next one comes...but anyway, there’s an incident that occurred here several hundred years and I’m trying to track down information about it. Basically. Do you know where I should start if I’m looking for Aggrya’s historical records of about 1000 years ago?”

“The Lorists are the keepers of our Comm history,” said Gale. “They will be able to address your questions.”

“Of course, yes, the Lorists, I’ll make sure to speak to them. But does the Comm have any collections of more official record—like a set of books or tablets in the library I can refer to?”

“Surely the Lorists would have the most detailed record of the Comm’s history,” said Zephyr with an amused air.

“Perhaps,” said Yaetr, though she did not seem one bit convinced of this. “I’ll, uh, speak to them later today. Though if you can direct me to the library first, I’ll be very obliged.”

“Of course,” said Gale, “I’m sure any of the youngsters here would be glad to escort you.” The five said youngsters smiled or shuffled awkwardly at being singled out thus. Mistral tried to catch Yaetr’s eye.

Flatus said, “I suppose you’d like to get settled first.”

“Right, yes, please, of course,” said Yaetr as if she’d forgotten entirely.

Zephyr stood and walked to the apprentices. “Have you chosen your attendant yet?”

“Uh,” said Yaetr, scanning all the faces behind her. “I can skip the... personal attention, if that’s all right.”

Zephyr tilted her head inquisitively. “We follow Breeder custom of hospitality to best serve your individual needs. If you don’t see what you are looking for, there are four other—”

“No, that’s quite all right, I—” said Yaetr, her voice pitched high. Her eyes locked onto the most familiar face of the crowd. She flung a hand out, “Misty! I choose Misty.”

“Mistral,” said Zephyr, one brow arched high, “would be happy to see you to your room.”

“Right, Mistral,” mumbled Yaetr. She stood abruptly, and made an aborted movement toward the exit. Gale and Flatus stood too.

Mistral could not help but chuckle softly as he bent to pick up Yaetr’s bags.

“I hope we’ll speak again soon,” said Gale.

Flatus reached out to take the cup Yaetr was clutching tightly in front of her. “Please let us know directly if there’s anything you need,” she added. 

“Thank you, yes,” said Yaetr, nodding vigorously, and gripped her now empty hands at her sides. She walked over to the entry way and looked at Mistral. Mistral smiled at her and turned to lead her to the main guest room, careful not to drag the baggage on walls along the way. 

When they arrived, he set the bags down by the writing desk. Yaetr walked past him to the bed. Though he found the room overall restrained in decor, Mistral had to admit that the bed itself made a rather lavish picture, covered in plush pillows with stitch-work and canopied with sheer fabrics. Yaetr was fingering the crimson satin fabric of the bed spread.

“Is there another cloak in your luggage?” asked Mistral. “I can help you into it, if you’d like to refresh yourself before going out.”

Yaetr turned to him then, her eyes a bit wild. “They don’t expect us to—you and me, we don’t have to—I mean...”

“We do not expect anything of you that you are not comfortable with,” said Mistral.

Yaetr bit her lip and looked at him searchingly. “Good,” she said eventually.

“Should I help you into a new cloak?” asked Mistral.

“How would that work exactly?” asked Yaetr.

“How would what work?" 

“Well it’s not that I haven’t heard of this. Pretty good deal actually. Do your duty to society, just like any healthy, strong woman should—without being saddled with a kid to carry around back and forth until you’re old and tired. Make someone else get stuck with it...But how does it happen exactly. I can not leave you my seed to do with what you will. A whole three seasons are required—” she gestured toward her stomach, “—for it to grow and I might not even be here, Earth knows where I’ll be in three seasons.”

“We welcome you to stay with us,” said Mistral simply. “Through birth and up to a year after. We treat you well.”

“Oh,” said Yaetr. “But I won’t do that.”

Mistral shrugged at that.

“Are you going to throw me out?” asked Yaetr.

“No,” said Mistral. Then, when no further questions seemed to be coming, “Would you like to put on a new cloak?”

“This one will do quite all right, thank you,” said Yaetr, “but can you take me to the library?”

They didn’t talk much on the way there, or on the way back several hours later. 

“Did you find what you needed to know?” tried Mistral.

“Not yet,” said Yaetr and they left it at that.

At dinner when the apprentices sans Mistral performed the pre-meal dance, Mistral asked, “Is the dancing pleasing to you?”

“Very lovely,” said Yaetr, cheeks slightly red.

“It's better when I'm in it,” said Mistral lightly.

“Why aren't you up there now?”

“My job right now is to be by your side.” On an impulse, he leaned a little closer to her. “But I can show you my dancing later when we're alone together. If you want.”

Yaetr blinked rapidly several times and engrossed herself in the food being served in front of her. She avoided talking to him for the rest of the evening.

Even once they went back to her room for the night, she didn’t speak to him. She immediately sat at her desk and engrossed herself in the missives that had arrived for her.

“Should I help you get comfortable for the night?” asked Mistral eventually.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you with that.”

“You won’t. It would be a great pleasure for me.”

Yaetr looked up at him brow furrowed. “Ugh,” she said, “fine.”

Mistral thought her tone was sharper than expected but he was happy to finally get his hands on the rusting muddy cloak. He slipped it off her shoulders and vowed it would be clean by tomorrow even if he had to wash and dry it himself. But Yaetr had gone stiff under his hands.

“Should I help you out of these overclothes too?” asked Mistral, moving away slightly.

Yaetr looked up at him. “Very well,” she said. For the first time with Yaetr, Mistral heard in her words the commanding tone of someone with close ties to Yumenes. Her confusion and hesitation from earlier in the day had dissipated.

Mistral started to pull off her work pants.

Yaetr asked, “Why do you do this?”

“Do what, take your pants off?”

“No,” Yaetr said, unfazed, “your use-caste—breeding.”

Mistral was not sure how to handle this new assertive Yaetr. He settled on, “My mother is a Breeder.”

“Usually male children take the use-caste of their father.”

“I have no father.”

“I see,” said Yaetr thoughtfully. She lifted her arms up in the air when Mistral started pulling up her sweater. “But even so—” she paused while he lifted the sweater up over her head. “Even so,” she said, curls tumbling, “not many men chose to be a Breeder.”

“That is true,” agreed Mistral.

Yaetr was down to her shift now. The semi-translucent fabric went down to her knees, exposing two pale shins. She was even skinnier than Mistral originally thought.

Yaetr crossed her arms and sat back on the bed, then crossed her legs too. “So why did you choose it then?”

“I had qualities the Comm Moms decided they wanted.”

“Like what?”

Mistral shrugged.

“But then you chose it because of the Mothers?”

Mistral didn’t know what she meant.

Yaetr rested her elbows on her thighs and pointed both hands toward him, “If you could have any job in the world, would you still choose Breeding?”

Mistral shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He felt a bit as if he were a kid who had misbehaved in creche. “There is a space for me here. A space I fill.”

Yaetr was watching him silently, hands clasped under her chin. “Am empty space? So you’re, what, the pebble they use to plug a hole in the wall?”

Mistral frowned. “No, I’m a flower... blooming in an empty spot in the garden.”

Yaetr frowned back at him.

Mistral said, “Do you want something else from me tonight?”

Yaetr shook her head. “No.”

“All right,” said Mistral, and bid her goodnight.

The next morning Yaetr was as brusque as the night before. She asked Mistral to take her to the Lorists immediately. He must’ve shown some surprise in his face because Yaetr said, “Just to double-check they’re as useless as usual.”

After he had dropped her off— “you needn’t come back until dinner time”—Mistral went straight back to Yaetr’s room to read her correspondence. This he brought to the Comm Moms almost immediately.

“I don’t like this,” said Flatus when she heard what the letters contained. “She is dangerous.”

“But she is so useful!” protested Zephyr.

“Useful? She’s researching roggas with Old Sanze money!”

Gale was holding her chin. “I see trouble with this, yes, though she may yet be useful. But, there will be other useful people that visit us in the future. I say let’s back away on this one.”

“Yes Ma Gale,” muttered Zephyr.

But when they left the room, Zephyr told Mistral, “bring her to the baths tonight.”

So after dinner, Mistral asked Yaetr if he could escort her to the bathhouse.

“Oh,” said Yaetr. “I suppose you all bathe together.”

“Yes?” said Mistral.

“I don’t suppose it’s possible for me to bathe on my own at a different time?”

Mistral was confused, “Why do you want to bathe on your own?”

“I would prefer it. Don’t some people do that here?”

“Not if they can help it.”

“Oh, all right, fine,” said Yaetr resignedly. “Lead the way.”

Once at the bath house, they were able to find a pool that was empty and halfway surrounded by rocks and some foliage to protect it from being completely open to everyone’s view. Yaetr was hesitant at first, hands wrapped around her front, body tense. Eventually, though, she began to droop under the water.

She was fully melted, head lolled to one side, when their relative comfort was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Zephyr. Almost before they realized she was there, Zephyr had lowered herself into their pool between them and spread out her limbs with a sigh. Sky light reflected appealingly off her wet skin.

“Oh,” said Yaetr, sitting upright once again.

“Scholar Yaetr,” said Zephyr.

“Ye-yes,” squeaked Yaetr, looking anywhere but at Zephyr.

“Have you been finding the lore you are looking for?” asked Zephyr. “I hear you talked to the Lorists today. Was it helpful?”

“They had a lot to say, but I’m not sure any of it was factual. They love to fill your head with stories. I’ll have a shaker of a time trying to corroborate any of it.”

Zephyr frowned. “Story… fact... It’s all lore, is it not?”

“No,” said Yaetr. “There’s lore that helps us remember the past, make logical conclusions, and prepare for the future. Then there’s lore that’s foolishness to fill our brains and distract them from serious matters.”

Zephyr leaned back. “Interesting. Perhaps you can help me sort out something then. Tell me if this is fact or foolishness. The Imperial Road was built by geneers with the help of roggas.”

“That is fact, yes.”

“But it was roggas who picked the routes out from the landscape so they wouldn’t shake and it was roggas who put the stones into place. So really, can’t you say that it was roggas who built the road with the help of geneers?”

“That is also true,” nodded Yaetr. “In fact that is a good example of...I need to write it down. Believe it or not, this is very useful to my project.”

Zephyr leaned forward toward Yaetr. Their knees were almost touching. “Every textbook in every creche says roggas are dangerous for humanity. But really, would there be any humanity without them? Fact or foolishness?”

Yaetr clapped her hands. “Oh, but you are right. And we’ve been blind to the true cycle of Seasons because of their sacrifices.”

“Then how come the serious lore doesn’t say that?”

Yaetr nodded. “Sometimes foolishness can be seen as serious. Sometimes prejudice or politics can come in the face of hard facts. And this is exactly why we have to separate the foolishness! It’s really amazing how blind we have been to not consider this before. And it’s my job to correct the lore and you have no idea, this has been so helpful to me, because that is exactly a story I’m trying to fix. And this is revolutionary stuff, to change the whole course of our civilization. As transformative as the forming of Sanze!”

“Yes,” said Zephyr. “Imagine a world where we take advantage of the gifts of roggas. Where we raise roggas as members of our comms who help with heating, tilling, washing, keeping storerooms safe.”  
  
Yaetr frowned. “Surely we already do so at the Fulcrum, where the Guardians can help train them to control their power?”

“But imagine how much more they could do alongside us!”

“I-I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Mistral,” said Zephyr, turning her head over one shoulder to look at him. And Mistral focused himself on the stone beneath his feet. Then he pushed in further to where he could sess the molten stone beneath, warming the baths. This he shifted a bit, using its own heat so that more of it came in contact with the water. Within seconds, the temperature of the water in their pool began to rise.

Yaetr was staring at them uncomprehendingly. Zephyr gestured to the water around them. Yaetr looked down and suddenly seemed to realize the water was getting warmer. “Oh,” she said quietly, then “Oh!” She stood up then, her eyes wide.

She pointed at Mistral. “He-he...”

“Mistral helps run the baths,” said Zephyr, “so we have warm water year-round.”

“But,” said Yaetr, “he’s not a black jacket?”

“No.”

“He doesn’t have a Guardian?”

“I don’t need one,” burst out Mistral, standing as well.

Yaetr stared at him. He stared back defiantly. Her skin had broken out in bumps from contact with the night air. Yaetr shifted back against the edge of the pool. “I—I need to go,” she said, climbed out of the pool and left.

Mistral barely held back a frustrated scream.

“I don’t understand how that went wrong,” Zephyr was saying, “I thought she wanted to help roggas.”

“Just because we’re useful tools doesn’t mean we’re humans,” said Mistral. He was burning up inside. He wanted to shake the whole bath house to the ground. “She’s just the same as everyone else.”

Zephyr put a gentle hand on his back of his neck. “I know you are angry right now, but I need you to talk to her tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“We need to figure out what she’s going to do now. This could put us in danger.”

Mistral sighed heavily. “I know,” he said. Then he dipped his head under the water and curled his body into a ball, wishing he could just stay there forever.

But talking to Yaetr was easier said than done. She was gone when Mistral went to her room the next morning. Only the overflowing bags by the desk indicated she wasn’t gone for good. Mistral looked for her in the library, he talked to the Lorists too, but he couldn’t find her. It was already early evening before Breeze told him that she had seen Yaetr at the lodge-house and that Mistral better get over there soon.

“One more drink,” Yaetr was saying when Mistral got there. She was slumped over the bar.

The bartender crossed one burly arm across her chest. “This coin you gave hasn’t even covered the last two I served you.”

Yaetr was spluttering a series of protestations, but the bartender saw Mistral over her head.

“You there,” she called, “can your lot collect her? We’ve had quite enough tonight.”

And so Mistral half dragged, half carried Yaetr—inebriated, senseless—toward the Breeder halls. It was not the first time Mistral lamented the standards of hospitality toward guests Breeders had to uphold. But he had never felt as aggravated to be gentle with the person currently laying half her weight on Mistral’s shoulders and digging a spectacularly pointed chin into his neck.

Yaetr jerked up all of a sudden, pulling back Mistral’s shoulder, all the while muttering “Hold. Hold-hold!” as if she were pulling on a bridle and Mistral were the horse. Yaetr then overbalanced, stumbled backward, and fell to the ground. Mistral hoped she hit her head hard, but bent down by her side.

“You can leave me here,” Yaetr said. “It feels so nice here.”

“That would hardly be appropriate,” said Mistral through gritted teeth.

“Only fools look at the stars in the sky, they say,” said Yaetr.

Mistral didn’t look up.

“Evil Earth, but am I a fool.”

Mistral looked at Yaetr’s face more closely, noticing a glint in her eyes as if they were watery. Yaetr looked back at him.

“So you’re a rogga,” said Yaetr. She looked back to the sky.

Mistral didn’t say anything.

“How many of you are there here?”

Mistral sighed. “There’s a handful. Zephyr’s son was just named for Leadership use-caste. There’ll be more when he becomes Comm Headsman.”

Yaetr whistled appreciatively. “Zephyr too?”

“No,” said Mistral, “just her son.”

“Don’t the others want you out of the comm?”

“It makes it harder for them to complain when Aggrya would fall apart if we left. There’s not enough people to do the harvest without us. Plus, the Breeders support us.”

Yaetr thought about this for a while. “Plant different seed to enrich the soil and the whole garden will prosper. Plant only one seed and it will grow half-formed or rot,” she quoted.

“Yes,” said Mistral. “Breeders must foster bloodlines what will help everyone survive.”

“Not everyone takes that so liberally.” Yaetr threw an arm over her face. “I can’t help you. The Academy cut my funding. I’m done. Kaput. No one wants to hear it.”

Mistral felt a little bad for her.

“They called me back. ‘Get back here as soon as possible! And don’t waste any more money!’ It’s that part that gets me, don’t waste our money. The never cared about my masterships. I have to just crawl back to them, shut up, and do what they tell me.”

They remained quiet a little while longer.

Eventually, Mistral said, “Come on, let’s get back to your room. Won’t you rather lie down on a warm bed?”

Yaetr swiped her wrist along both eyes and then nodded.

He helped her get up, put a hand around her waist, and pulled her to his side. She shivered.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

Yaetr laughed raggedly. “Yes,” she said. “I think I'm scared of everything right now."

Finally, they staggered back to the guest room. Yaetr flopped on the bed and resisted when he tried to help her with her clothes. “Just leave it,” she mumbled.

She curled on her side, away from him, and groaned.

“Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?” he asked.

“Can you make this room warmer,” she said, muffled.

“Certainly,” he said.

All of a sudden, Yaetr sat upright. “Wait,” she said, “you’re not going to…,” she made a twisty gesture with her hand.

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. “No,” he said, amused. “We use hydrothermal heating. If I move this switch further to the side, it will open up the pipe and more warm water will flow through.”

“Oh,” said Yaetr. Mistral wondered if he was imagining the hint of disappointment in her voice.

His heart beating loudly, he asked, “Would you like to see me do—” he mimicked her hand gesture.

“No!” squeaked Yaetr.

“Aren’t you curious,” pressed Mistral. “This power you’ve been researching. What is it like?”

“I’ve seen orogeny before,” said Yaetr, crossing her arms.

“No you haven’t,” said Mistral, moving closer to her. “You haven’t been in the center of the fulcrum, close enough to rip into the molten depths of the Earth, to feel the current of heat and energy, to feel as if you can move the whole of Stillness.”

Yaetr was watching him, eyes wide.

Mistral reached out a hand to her. Yaetr hesitated, then gave her his hand. He turned it palm up and then closed his eyes to concentrate. All he wanted was a simple inversion of the moisture in the air above their hands. He could sess the heat floating there, and he just...pulled—

Yaetr gasped. Mistral open his eyes to see the icy oval he had formed in her palm. He hadn’t cooled it very well. It was already melting in her grasp. He smiled.

The corner of Yaetr’s lips started turning up. “Not exactly shake-quelling.”

“No,” agreed Mistral. He wiped the water off her palm with the corner of his shirt. She gripped his hand when he started to pull away. He looked at her, but she didn’t say anything.

Eventually, she let go and looked down. “I think I’m the pebble patching the wall.”

Mistral cocked his head at her. She went on, “They’re just using me to fill the hole in their wall. I just happen to fit the shape of hole, and they’ll sand off all the extra parts that stick out.” She sighed heavily.

Mistral sat down on the bed next to her. “I think I have some idea of what you’re feeling.” She looked at him, her eyes a little wide.

*

_Alma_

~~_When I woke up this morning, I realized I had lost the stone you gave me._ ~~

_Eziku’s 15th tablet: Leave unfinished work today, perish tomorrow._

~~_In the last few days, I have felt I do not recognize this world. Like the entire thing has been turned upside down and all the things I knew tumbled away. And took you with it._ ~~

~~_Why? What’s the point to what we do if_ ~~

_I remember when you failed my first treatise. Go back to the books, go back to stones. The source will show the truth that time has obscured._

_I won’t be coming back to the Seventh, Alma._

~~_I’m still hoping one of these days I’ll wake up and you’ll be there with me._ ~~

**Author's Note:**

> Dear ellen_fremedon,
> 
> I came down to the wire on this one, but I hope what the story lacks in polish, it makes up with heart.
> 
> I didn't follow your desires very well. I really wanted to write a story that captured the "preparing for winter" aesthetic you mentioned. But it didn't work out. What I definitely took to heart, though, was making sure it was hopeful. N. K. Jemisin writes of the most cynical possibilities, but even in that world, I think there may have been slightly better outcomes. At least more hopeful. So I hope you like that.
> 
> I loved reading about you on fanlore and discovering the discourse you've written. I loved looking up the other Yuletide suggestions you had! I hope this story pays some of that feeling forward. Happy Yuletide.


End file.
